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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005007">tail (흔들어 흔들어)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletbulletbullet/pseuds/bulletbulletbullet'>bulletbulletbullet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(not really but I like to tag just in case because there is a mention), Angst and Smut, Bottom Bang Chan, Breathplay, Exes, Explicit Sexual Content, Glove Kink, Hurt No Comfort, Leather Kink, M/M, Mentioned Han Jisung | Han, Shameless Smut, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know, implied minsung</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:22:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulletbulletbullet/pseuds/bulletbulletbullet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho left the bookshelves to slink to the widow, tugging the blinds down, obscuring the view of the city outside. “Maybe I want something different now, anyway.” He tugged his black beanie off and dropped it onto the armchair in the corner, ruffling a hand through his dark hair.</p><p>His voice made it perfectly clear what he wanted, and Chan hated himself for considering it.</p><p>Because he was.<br/> <br/><i>Considering it.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bang Chan/Lee Minho | Lee Know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tail (흔들어 흔들어)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Instead of working on one of my many wips, I decided to start something new, because that's how my brain works I guess? So here is some angsty minchan exes smut (also how is "angst and smut" not a tag already hello ao3 are you okay??) mostly inspired by Sunmi's <i>Tail</i> (also where the title came from, of course). Enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Nice digs, Channie.”</p><p>Chan’s head shot up from where it had been pressed against his desk out of exhaustion.</p><p>“You weren’t supposed to be here this late, but I should’ve known better. My little workaholic. Some things never change, do they?”</p><p>
  <em> “Minho.” </em>
</p><p>“Hi, baby.” Minho leaned a hip against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyelashes fluttered above his mask, like he was flirting, a sick joke at Chan’s expense. “Miss me?”</p><p>Chan scowled, pushing himself up out of his chair. “What the fuck do <em> you </em>want, Minho?”</p><p>“Definitely not dinner,” Minho quipped, gesturing towards the takeout containers open on Chan’s desk. “God, you still don’t take care of yourself, do you?” He stepped out of the doorway, prowling towards Chan until he was too close for comfort, reaching out without hesitation to trail a gloved hand down Chan’s chest, over the buttons of his shirt, nudging his tie out of the way. “I bet you still go to the gym though, hmm? You have to get all that rage out somehow, now that I’m not around to fuck you anymore.” His hand wrapped around Chan’s tie, still tied but hanging loose around his neck, and tugged. “Nobody knows you like I do, do they, baby?”</p><p>Chan realized too late that Minho had backed him up against the edge of the desk.</p><p>He nudged his way in between Chan’s thighs, brushing both hands over his body until they came to rest on Chan’s shoulders, black leather against white cotton.</p><p>Chan swallowed audibly; Minho’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat from above his mask. Like a man compelled, Chan reached up, hooking one finger over the edge of Minho’s mask, tugging it off of his face and dropping it onto the floor in one smooth motion.</p><p>“You <em> did </em>miss me.” It was practically a purr, Minho’s lips curling into a smug smile before he leaned in to kiss Chan.</p><p>It was like nothing had changed - like their first kiss, so many years ago that Chan should have barely been able to remember the feeling - and then Minho opened his lips and slipped his tongue into Chan’s mouth, and Chan remembered every other kiss they’d shared, when they were happy and in love.</p><p>But they weren’t happy, and they certainly weren’t in love. They hadn’t been, not for a long time.</p><p>Chan jerked back against the desk as if burned. “Won’t <em> Jisung </em>care?”</p><p>The way he said Jisung’s name - like it was <em> poison </em> - had Minho laughing, the sound cold as it bounced around Chan’s wood-paneled office. “We’re not in <em> love, </em> Channie. Why - are you <em> jealous?” </em> Chan refused to look at him, and Minho grasped his chin firmly, the leather of his glove chafing Chan’s skin. “He’s just my partner who I happen to be fucking. That’s it.”</p><p>Minho laughed again at the sour look on Chan’s face, and the sound sent a shiver down his spine, chilling him to the core.</p><p>Chan managed to pull himself together long enough to push Minho away, less gently than he was strictly proud of. “Why are you here?”</p><p>“Well,” Minho started, voice casual as he stepped further away from Chan to circle the room, his steps slow, “I came here on a little errand. Just some quick business to attend to, you know how it is.” Chan watched as he paced past the wall of built-in bookshelves, running one fingertip over the spines of all of Chan’s leather-bound volumes of statutes and codifications.</p><p>“Whatever it is you’re looking for, you know I can’t let you have it.”</p><p>“Baby, I <em> told </em> you that you weren’t supposed to be here. What, do you think I’m going to <em> fight </em>you?” He said it like it was a joke - and it was, really. They both knew who would win in a fight, and it wasn’t Chan.</p><p>Minho left the bookshelves to slink to the widow, tugging the blinds down, obscuring the view of the city outside. “Maybe I want something different now, anyway.” He tugged his black beanie off and dropped it onto the armchair in the corner, ruffling a hand through his dark hair.</p><p>His voice made it perfectly clear what he wanted, and Chan hated himself for considering it.</p><p>Because he was.</p><p>
  <em> Considering it. </em>
</p><p>Minho finished his loop around the room as Chan watched, silently; he pressed the door shut, the lock sliding home with a muted click. The building was all but deserted at this hour, no one around besides the night security guard who Minho had clearly gotten past without issue, but Chan knew it was all for show anyway.</p><p>Minho wasn’t keeping anyone out - he was keeping Chan <em> in. </em></p><p>Was Chan really going to let his ex - his <em> criminal </em> ex, who had broken into his law practice for some nefarious purpose, who was dressed like a fucking <em> supervillain </em> (and goddamnit why did Chan find that so <em> hot?) </em> - fuck him in his office?</p><p>When he didn’t make a move to unlock the door, or any move at all, Minho’s smirk widened, but he stayed where he was, watching Chan carefully. Studying him.</p><p>“Where do you want me to fuck you, baby?” Chan curled his hands into fists, frustrated at the effect Minho’s voice had always had on him. “I could let you ride me in your chair, but I don’t think that’s what you want. You want me to fuck you stupid, and I just don’t think the chair is sturdy enough for that.” Minho sounded like he was discussing something utterly banal, like the weather or what was for dinner, and it was having the desired effect as Chan reddened, his cock clearly straining against his slacks.</p><p>“The rug’s not bad, definitely an upgrade from your old office.” Minho toed at the edge of said rug with his boot, drawing Chan’s eye to the black leather that encased his calves, and up, further, to the skintight bodysuit that hugged Minho’s thighs like a second skin. Minho’s amused chuckle pulled Chan’s attention back to his face, and his flush deepened, shame at having been caught <em> leering </em>at Minho’s legs rushing through him.</p><p>“You don’t care where I fuck you, huh Channie?” Minho took one step forward, then another, one hand toying with the zipper that started just under his chin. “You want it so bad, you’ll let me do whatever I want with you.”</p><p>He wasn’t wrong, and they both knew it.</p><p>“Turn around and bend over the desk, baby.” Chan turned around haltingly, but his desk was covered in detritus - his laptop and the remains of his late dinner and several open books and a variety of case files and pens and other office ephemera. He looked over his shoulder at Minho wordlessly, but Minho didn’t care. “Make it work. I want you ass up <em> now.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>Chan did his best to shove everything out of the way without making too much of a mess, finding room for his forearms as he bent at the waist.</p><p>“Good boy.” Minho was moving behind him, but Chan knew better than to attempt to figure out what he was doing - he moved into Chan’s line of vision soon enough, reaching out to tug Chan’s top left desk drawer open, slipping his hand inside and rifling around for a moment.</p><p>“You still keep things hidden in— ah, perfect.” Minho pulled a bottle of lube and a condom out of the depths of the drawer before he shut it. “Maybe you’re not such a good boy after all if you keep these at work, hmm? Does daddy dearest know what you get up to in your office when he’s not here?” Minho tutted at him and took his finds with him as he left the desk to stand behind Chan.</p><p>“Sounds like my father’s still a sore spot for you.” Chan regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, and he hung his head, waiting in tense silence for Minho’s response.</p><p>“Let’s not talk about your <em> father </em>when I’m about to be inside of you, sweetheart.”</p><p>Chan let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.</p><p>Nimble fingers found his belt and unbuckled it, sliding it free of the loops of his slacks before it landed on the rug with a dull thud.</p><p>Minho unbuttoned and unzipped his pants next, kicking Chan’s feet further apart so that his slacks and briefs stayed stuck around his thighs when Minho pulled them down.</p><p>“I’ll tell you what, Channie,” he said, tone cold, as he opened the bottle of lube, “I did miss this ass, I can admit that much.” Minho punctuated his sentence with a smack to one of Chan’s cheeks, the leather of his glove stinging pleasantly in a way Chan didn’t want to examine too deeply.</p><p>The sound of Minho squeezing the lube out of the bottle was loud in the hush of Chan’s office, the noise so obscene that Chan’s cock twitched, leaking pre-cum onto his rug. All thoughts of having to worry about finding someone who could dry-clean antique area rugs were shoved roughly out of Chan’s mind when two fingertips circled his rim without warning.</p><p>Minho still had his gloves on, and the knowledge made Chan’s knees weak, the feel of the leather on his skin like nothing he’d ever experienced. He realized, almost too late, that he was about to be feeling that leather <em> inside </em>of himself and he had to fight to catch his breath, his pulse thundering as Minho worked one finger into him, the stretch and burn familiar and foreign at the same time.</p><p>
  <em> “Shit.” </em>
</p><p>“Been a while, baby?” Minho sounded amused as he started to work his finger in and out, in and out until Chan felt like he was losing his mind.</p><p>“Minho, please.”</p><p>Minho just hummed in response, his movements slowing down, the tip of his gloved finger just missing Chan’s prostate every time he thrust in.</p><p><em> “Fuck, </em> do you want me to <em> beg? </em> Minho, come on, shit.”</p><p>“What’s the magic word, Channie?”</p><p>“I already said <em> plea—” </em></p><p>Chan’s voice broke on a cry as Minho pushed a second finger in alongside the first. He was still avoiding Chan’s prostate, which couldn’t be an accident with how well he knew his body, but it seemed like his patience for tormenting Chan was running thin. He picked up speed, scissoring his fingers and stretching Chan out until he was able to slide a third in as Chan hissed.</p><p>Minho’s free hand squeezed at Chan’s ass for a moment before sliding up to his hip to grasp at him; he went pliant, letting Minho pull him back onto his fingers. The feeling of the leather on his skin and inside of him was pushing buttons Chan didn’t know he had, and Minho seemed to know it, rubbing his hand over Chan’s hip so that the glove dragged against his skin, tugging at his flesh.</p><p>He still refused to put any pressure on Chan’s prostate, just barely brushing past it with his fingertips on every other inward slide, but Chan didn’t want to beg any more than he already had, so he took it, letting Minho open him up until he was more than ready - and then some.</p><p>Minho caught on, because of course he did; he pulled his fingers out, pausing to thumb at Chan’s rim before both of his hands retreated entirely.</p><p>“You’re no fun.”</p><p>Chan could practically hear the pout in his voice, but any retort he was forming was wiped away by the metal-on-metal sound of a zipper as Minho opened his bodysuit. Chan ached to look at him, but he still wanted to be <em> good </em>for Minho, and that knowledge made him hate himself just a little bit, shame slithering down his spine to fuel the burn of arousal in his gut.</p><p>After the zipper came the crinkle of the condom wrapper as Minho tore it open, and then the slick sound of him lubing himself up before Chan felt Minho step back into his space.</p><p>Leather-clad hands gripped Chan’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart as Minho pressed himself up against him, letting his cock slide between his cheeks and over his hole teasingly.</p><p>“Not going to beg me anymore, baby?”</p><p>Chan didn’t say anything, shaking his head even though he knew Minho’s eyes were currently focused elsewhere.</p><p>“Maybe,” Minho said, voice low and dripping with honey, a mockery of tenderness<em> , </em> “I don’t want you bent over the desk. Maybe I want to lay you down on the floor so I can fuck you nice and slow, watch you fall apart for me, watch your pretty face while you cry because it feels <em> so good.” </em> Chan grit his teeth, determined not to let Minho get to him, but it was a struggle.</p><p>“Is that what you want, Channie? Want me to make love to you?”</p><p>
  <em> “No.” </em>
</p><p>Chan’s voice was strained, barely audible even to his own ears. Minho squeezed the flesh of his ass once, then twice.</p><p>“What was that, baby?”</p><p>“No, you son of a <em> bitch, </em> you know what I want.”</p><p>Minho laughed, high and sharp, pleased to be able to bend Chan to his will so easily, even after all the time they’d spent apart.</p><p>“Tell me what you want, or I’ll leave.”</p><p>It might have been an empty threat, what with the way Minho’s cock was throbbing, so hot against Chan’s ass that it felt like it was branding him, but Chan wasn’t willing to risk it.</p><p>“I <em> want </em>you to fuck me hard and fast and then get the hell out of my office.”</p><p>Minho didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to - he let go of Chan’s ass and lined himself up, nudging the head of his cock against Chan’s rim, letting it catch and tug for a moment, teasing him, before he finally thrust in, hard and fast. Punishing, just like Chan wanted.</p><p>“Fuck, baby.” Minho’s voice was a low hiss as he fucked Chan, slamming into him hard enough to shake the desk. “You’re so tight, shit.” His hands found Chan’s hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there. One of the gloves was still slick with lube, and the feeling of it on Chan’s skin had him lightheaded.</p><p>“Don’t tell me you haven’t let anyone fuck you since you <em> left </em>me, Channie.” How Minho was still forming full sentences was beyond Chan; the force of Minho’s hips pistoning had him brainless, mouth open as he gasped for air, fingers clawing at his desk for purchase. “Oh, baby, were you punishing yourself for breaking my heart?”</p><p>Chan choked back a sob, hating Minho for knowing him so well, hating himself for all of the reasons that he tried to push down on a daily basis lest they overwhelm him and swallow him whole.</p><p>Minho’s hands tightened on his hips, and he tugged, pulling Chan up onto his toes so that he was slamming into his prostate with every stroke, and Chan couldn’t do it anymore, hot tears welling up and over, slipping down his cheeks as he cried Minho’s name.</p><p>Impossibly, Minho seemed to speed up, fucking Chan harder and deeper, his taunting gone, replaced by breathy moans that Chan could barely hear over the sound of his own gasping cries and the lewd slap of skin on skin that filled his office.</p><p>Minho released his hips, one hand sliding to wrap around Chan’s cock while the other found his tie; Minho wrapped the dangling silk around his fist and pulled it over Chan’s shoulder. He tugged at it, just barely, but it was enough. The suggestion of it, combined with the leather on Chan’s cock and Minho pounding into his prostate - it was all too much, and Chan came with a sharp cry, spilling over Minho’s fingers and onto the rug.</p><p>“Don’t stop.” The words were panted, frantic and desperate; Chan was too weak to keep himself from saying them, more hot tears sliding over his cheeks. <em> “Please, Minho, </em> don’t stop.”</p><p><em> “Fuck.” </em> Minho dropped Chan’s tie, his hands moving back to Chan’s hips, grasping at his flesh so that Minho could tug him back to meet his movements, smearing Chan’s come over his skin, hot and sticky against the leather of his glove.</p><p>A few more thrusts was all it took for Minho to let go, hips stuttering before he stilled behind Chan.</p><p>He pulled out too soon, wiping the rest of the come off of his glove and onto Chan’s skin as he went, and Chan had to bite his lip to keep from saying something he would regret.</p><p>By the time Chan managed to get his limbs working again, pushing up off of the desk to turn around, Minho was tucked back into his bodysuit, the zipper pulled fully up, the leather encasing him snugly all the way up his throat.</p><p>He didn’t look at Chan at all as he disposed of the condom and put the lube back away in the drawer it had come from. It wasn’t until he retrieved his hat and mask and pulled them both back on that he finally met Chan’s eyes, watching him button his shirt back up and tuck it into his slacks before he bent to pick up his belt.</p><p>Chan was suddenly exhausted, the sort of bone-deep tired that only came when he thought about Minho, about the mistakes he’d made. The mistakes they’d both made.</p><p>“Well, this was fun.” Minho unlocked the door and opened it, leaning down to pick up a black sling bag off of the ground that Chan hadn’t even noticed before. He slid it over his chest, humming to himself as he adjusted the straps, seemingly completely unaffected by what had just happened, the polar opposite of Chan.</p><p>“Minho.”</p><p>Minho looked up sharply, his mask barely hiding his contempt.</p><p>“Tell me why you came here.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated. “I already told you, <em> Christopher. </em> I had an errand to run, just helping someone who needed a little bit of assistance with a pesky little legal problem they’re having.”</p><p>“All out of the goodness of your heart?”</p><p>“No, baby. For the money.” Minho shrugged blithely. “Helping someone out when they deserve justice doesn’t hurt, either.”</p><p>Chan laughed bitterly, hard and quick, like it was forced out of him. “What would you know about <em> justice?” </em></p><p>“We did always have a difference of opinion there, didn’t we, baby?”</p><p>And then Minho was gone, slipping out of Chan’s office before he could respond, leaving him alone with his own guilt. There was no point in calling security; he knew Minho could practically disappear when he needed to. He pushed the painful thought that he didn’t <em> want </em>to call security to the back of his mind as he cleaned up the mess of his desk, tossing out the leftovers before he put the files away and closed his books, stacking them up next to his laptop to deal with tomorrow. Right now he needed to go home and sleep, because he sure as hell wasn’t getting anything else done.</p><p>He pulled open his top left desk drawer to find the pack of wet wipes he kept on hand; he needed to clean the rug up before he left, but he froze before he could actually grab them. Something was wrong.</p><p>Maybe Minho had just shuffled the contents of the drawer up when he’d been in it to get the lube and the condom.</p><p><em> (Or maybe, </em> he thought to himself, resentful, <em> you’re a fool.) </em></p><p>Chan neatened the contents of the drawer, slowly and carefully, setting everything back into its usual organized chaos.</p><p>A single thumb drive was missing, and he knew which one, because he kept them all labeled with his client’s initials, to be able to tell the sleek silver drives apart, the firm’s logo engraved in the metal, the logo his father had updated when Chan finally joined the firm after years of being told to leave public defense behind for a <em> real </em>career.</p><p>Chan didn’t much like this client - in fact, he hated him, and if Minho was working for his ex-wife, who could hardly afford a lawyer of her own, he didn’t fault him. What was on that drive was enough to win her the case without question, and Chan couldn’t even bring himself to feel bad about it.</p><p>He’d have to figure out what he was going to tell his partners about the missing drive, but that was a problem for another day.</p><p>For now, he was going to clean up the rug and go home to sleep.</p><p>The fact that he probably wouldn’t actually sleep didn’t elude him - he knew he was going to spend hours thinking about Minho instead, replaying the entirety of their relationship as he tossed and turned in his sheets, torturing himself with how they had been doomed from the start.</p><p>He’d always wished they’d found a way to make it work, but it just wasn’t meant to be.</p><p>That reality wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it, though, or from dreaming about what might have been once he finally drifted off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come yell at me on twitter (nsfw) <a href="https://twitter.com/bulletfic">@bulletfic</a> ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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